


When He's Leaving

by vtn



Category: Sloan (Band)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-04
Updated: 2007-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew's gone, and Chris isn't quite ready to ask him to come home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When He's Leaving

**Author's Note:**

> I think it was before Twice Removed, when Andrew went to live in a different city -- it's been a while since I brushed up on my Sloan history -- that this takes place. Spoilers: he comes back. :P

You hate him for the sake of having something to hate and at one point you actually consider calling him a "big dumb stupid" and yeah, kinda meaning it, and that is when you know you. Are. Waning. He knows too much, see--he knows too much and you really shouldn't be allowed to be angry (but oh, you are--you're angry the way other people get angry, not you, you aren't an angry person but you want so desperately to be angry at him so you are, oh you are) when he knows which songs are about him and which ones happened when and which ones you actually meant.

When do you of all people ever mean anything you say? But you do, and it's when he's leaving. Or it's when the rain is pouring outside your door and he's standing there, his nondescript off-white sweater gradually soaking through. You know he's been there for forty-five minutes and you heard him ring the doorbell about five times before you got off the couch (you know, you know, but there was Fawlty Towers on and fuck if you don't like Fawlty Towers). And he knows you're there--he sees you through that stupid little sunburst window thing above the door and you--you let him. 

And you say nothing, and it's what you really mean--not that this all really means nothing (it means everything, the kind of everything that hurts like getting smacked in the funny bone with a slab of marble) but that you really mean there aren't words anymore and (until next week or whenever when whichever one of you decides he's going to be less proud and admit he's sorry) the only place you want him to be is out in the rain without the comforts of your warm house.

(Your fingers are shaping hearts over the rug on your doorstep and) you say nothing.


End file.
